


Haze

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Delitoonz - Freeform, Drabble, M/M, Morning After, Smut, Too much?, rather suggestive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: Luke wakes up, the morning after.





	

He wakes up late, his head heavy and plastered to the pillow like his brain was full of rocks. Warm afternoon light spilling through the blinds and over his pillow.

His body is foreign and poorly translates his commands to move it. His arm twitches, heavy and half numb. His brain is full of spiders, cobwebs in his memory.

Luke groans, and shifts to the side. The movement is that of a heavy animal and it takes everything out of him just to separate himself those few inches from the mattress.

His stomach sticks to the bed, the sheets rising with him as he turns completely over to lay on his back.

There is a soreness between his legs.

He yawns, and picks at a loose strand of fiber in the sheets and fights the urge to sleep.

He is tired. Weary in a way that he can’t connect ever feeling before to any solid memory. His bones even, are heavy.

Sluggish. His legs are reluctant to stretch, as if he has run a mile in his sleep. His knees are stiff and bruised.

There is a taste in his mouth, down the back of his throat, and it makes it difficult to swallow.

He scratches at his stomach absentmindedly, yawning. His fingers picking at the crusty pieces that coat him there.

The sheets stay with him as he climbs backwards over the pillow, until he is almost sitting up in the bed. Legs parted and, something slides out of him, something sticks there too.

He reaches down, between his legs, and touches. His whole body feels crusty, like he is a scab that is slowly peeling off. His hand sticks to his skin as he pushes his cock aside to slide underneath.

He is sore, horribly sensitive. He feels still, a little swollen.

His fingers touch the space between his ass cheeks and there, the spot that’s usually not even a hole it’s so tightly compacted flesh is now a gapping space that his finger slides too easily into.

His breath catches and his toes curl.

He grumbles, words failing him. A memory flitters through the dust that covers his brain and he retreats the hand, to rest it against his crusty stomach.

His muscles are sore, even worse from contacting like that, but the sudden start wakes him up even more and he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

He pulls the sheets off of him, and sits up.

As he rises the bruises at his waist call out. Tiny dots from this angle, but the marks wrap around his hips. He turns to the side to better see them and, they almost resemble handprints.

His hips and back feel like he’s been thrown into a wall. (Or a bed.) So he moves carefully across the mattress until his feet are resting on the floor.

This is his room.

As he breathes deep, even breaths that keep him calm, the dried cum flakes off his chest.

His pants are on the floor.

He pulls the sheet off of him, unravels it from between his arms and body.

There is an unfamiliar pair of underwear on the floor.

(He knows who it belongs to.)

Luke closes his eyes, gives up a sigh, and slides off the bed. His legs are wobbly and poor to support him, but he manages to get them underneath him.

He stumbles as he leaves the bed, taking half steps across the room until he falls into the dresser, bracing himself against the wood. His legs tremble still, so he leans into the dresser and waits for them to recover.

In the mirror attached to it he can see his own face. His lips are just a little too red, swollen. There are soft marks behind his ear, and all the way down his neck. He tries to follow them with his eyes but they disappear behind his back.

His chin and the sides of his mouth are layered with lines of crumbling pieces. He scratches at a thick one on his cheek and it breaks free.

Without thinking he pops it in his mouth and the taste already there intensifies.

His mind is slow to start, to provide the words that he needs, though he already knows what they are.

The scent is heavy in the room, suffocating almost now that he’s become aware of it.

It smells like sex.

The dried cum falls off his chest as he separates himself from the dresser, from the mirror.

He remembers.. Warm breaths against the back of his neck. Dark hair brushing under his chin. Heavy hands and hot lips, but Jonathan is gone.

His room is empty, his house is quiet, and he is alone.

He swallows the lumps in his throat, swallows down what’s left there, and reaches for his discarded pants.

They are just a little grimy from being worn yesterday, but he pulls them on and zips them up.

He is fastening the button when the front door opens and he freezes. Tense and just a little afraid, but very embarrassed.

Covered still with dried cum, bruises and hickies.

He holds his breath as feet walk down the hallway. As if by not moving he won’t be seen.

The door to his room opens.

Jonathan walks in, holding a brown paper bag that smells overpoweringly sticky sweet, even through the paper and the room’s previous scent. He is carrying a devil may care grin, and his feet skip while he walks.

“It’s about damn time you got up,” Jonathan teases, and jumps onto the bed, fully dressed.

He pulls out two donuts from the bag and slowly starts eating them, watching Luke stand there, thumbs in the belt loops of his pants.

“Do I get another strip tease?” Jon perks up as the thought suddenly occurs to him.

He is so excited by this idea that he kicks the bags of food off the bed and crosses his legs, the last surviving donut hanging between his teeth from his mouth as he stares intently at Luke, waiting.

Jonathan is resting his hands on his crossed ankles, his expression so eager that what Luke wants to say slips away from him until all he can do is huff out a short laugh and roll his eyes at the other boy.

“Lord have mercy,” Luke mumbles. And then louder, “Why should I do the strip tease? You’re already wearing more clothes than me.”

Forgetting the “ _Why did this happen? How did we come to be like this?”_ And letting go of the _“Will you stay?”_

Jonathan breathes, and quickly finishes the last of his donut. “That is a good point,” he says around the last bites of food.

Then jumps up and peels his shirt off, throwing it across the room.

He reaches out to Luke, holds onto him and kisses him, too impatient to wait.

His kisses are sweet and filled with sugar.

Jonathan unbuckles his pants, and presses against Luke until the dresser is pushing a heavy line in Luke’s back.


End file.
